


sugar cookie sunshine

by lilibug



Series: across the lilac sky [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Christmas cookies and presents for everyone, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, a little christmas time fluff, and bughead being annoyingly cute with pda, best friends being friends, can be read as a Standalone fic, sweet pea and jughead do not know how to bake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 15:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: Exchanging presents at Christmas is always athing. Lately, Jughead always seemed to be sucker punched by the love he never thought he deserved.In the end they're just material things, but it's the thought that of it all that stands out to him the most.





	sugar cookie sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooooooo. Thanks for joining me. 
> 
> This is a prequel, pre-relationship fic for my series - light came through which is a polyamorous betty/jug/sp series. This takes place prior to that relationship. 
> 
> That means this can be read as A STANDALONE BUGHEAD FIC. 
> 
> You can read this and still enjoy the bughead, and some nice friendships without ever touching the ot3 if that's not your thing. 
> 
> If you're still here, thanks for sticking around! Sorry this is so late, (it's Feburary and I'm posting a Christmas fic? Yikes) but I've been trying I stg. 
> 
> Thanks to [@theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) and [@opportunistichag/kovicjones](https://kovicjones.tumblr.com) for betaing for me!

 

The day started about as well as any other.

He woke to the press of a kiss to his cheek and a whispered, “I love you, Juggie,” before Betty slipped out and closed the door to his bedroom, inevitably headed back to her house.  

Rolling over onto his stomach, he stretched out in the empty space she’d left, head pressing into her pillow and inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

He would never get used to them sleeping together in the same bed, simply because it still felt like a dream. Graduation and moving from of his father's home to his own apartment (albeit shared with Sweet Pea) was something that Jughead still had to remind himself of.

He’d gotten into the habit of staying up late to work on assignments for his classes since nothing he'd signed up for was earlier than 11 am. He was _not_ a morning person. Coffee couldn't even fix that level of grumpy. Of course, it didn't help that his bed was a secondhand mattress that was probably almost as old as him. It was lumpy and he was pretty sure there was a loose spring that always managed to make its way into the middle of his back. A good night's rest was nearly impossible.

So he was up late last night, even on their holiday break. They had inadvertently started a movie marathon when Betty said she had never seen _Home Alone_.

He was appalled.

They rectified it immediately, hopping onto Amazon and starting it up from his watchlist.

Sweet Pea came home about halfway through, finished with his shift at the tattoo parlour, and squished himself in on the couch next to Jughead, stealing an overflowing handful of popcorn.

Before they knew it, they were watching the second one and the third, which was obviously inferior because it didn't have Macaulay Culkin in it. Then, apparently there was a _fourth_ that Sweet Pea had to convince him was even real, a reboot that was just _terrible._

Betty had clocked out in the middle of the third, falling asleep against the arm of the couch with her legs stretched across him, feet pressing into the side of Sweet Pea's thigh. The two of them continued to ramble commentary until they finally finished around three am.

After carrying a very snuggly Betty back to his bed, he shuffled around Sweet Pea as they elbowed each other for space in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing their teeth.

He fell asleep with his brain whirling, thinking about the gifts he still needed to wrap that were hidden under the bed, hoping that they would be enough for everyone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried not to think about the little space they would take up under their tabletop tree in the middle of their kitchen table.

This was one of the many reasons he needed to finish these general education classes and transfer to a university. Betty had basically planned out their lives for the next three years, and he was more than willing to follow that plan if it got him to steady job and financial security. He had never wanted anything more than the chance for a home, and he was on the path towards finding it.

So, he was going to do something to supplement his meager Christmas offerings and show Betty how much he cared.  

By baking cookies for her.

It was kind of a _thing_ that he wasn't a great cook, having lived off a camp stove and packaged foods for an inordinate amount of time. He was still willing to try and see if his baking was any better. He wasn't expecting much, but it was the thought that counted, right?  

So when midday rolled around, a cup of coffee thrummed through his veins, Jughead set to work. With the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows and a butterfly print apron strung around his neck, he pulled out the worn cookbook that Betty had been using just the other day to make banana bread, and cracked the spine open.

He thumbed to the dessert section, grabbing hold of the tab that advertised cookies on the label and scanned the pages. Then flipped to another. Then another.

“Shit.”

He ran his index finger along the list of ingredients for several recipes, wondering what the fuck coconut was even doing in a cookie. That was just rude. And orange chocolate? He was seriously dumbfounded.

Of course, he would try anything once. But he had never even heard of most of these cookies.

Flipping back to the beginning, he stared down at the first card before sliding it out from the plastic and setting it on the counter. Old fashioned chocolate chip would just have to do.

Except he couldn't find any chocolate chips anywhere.

He did find a bag of Reese's Pieces and, rather than just eat them all like his stomach was telling him, he tossed them onto the counter - and as such, a new recipe was born. One that would hopefully satisfy the craving he suddenly had for peanut butter.

Searching for the rest of the ingredients on the card, he managed to scrounge everything together, even though he could only find a box of baking soda instead of powder. He wasn't quite sure what the difference was and there was an odd, nagging feeling that sort of felt like when Hermione Granger stressed the syllables of ‘ _leviosa’_ so hard...

But he was _not_ going out to the store only a few days before Christmas. That was insanity. And there was no way he was going to ask one of their neighbors.

Jughead stood in front of the counter and carefully examined the recipe card again, ready to continue onward with his baking in the hope that they would still turn out. He set the oven to preheat as he moved to start dumping the ingredients in the mixing bowl. Wet first, then dry.

He _might_ have added an extra dash of vanilla, a handful of pecan pieces, and a scoop of peanut butter.

When he turned the salt shaker upside down to add several dashes to make up the teaspoon the recipe called for, the lid came off.

And the entirety of the salt shaker dumped into the batter.

He made a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, staring down at the salt mixing with the batter and wondered if it was worth it to try and save it or if he should just start over. But he didn't quite have enough eggs and he already dumped the bag of Reese's Pieces in well before the recipe said to because he couldn't stop snacking on them. Having them covered in batter with raw eggs was a little bit more of a deterrent.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Grimacing, he turned to look over his shoulder as Sweet Pea rounded the corner from the hallway with a hand in his hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Making cookies?”

He pulled a face as he leaned against the counter, slipping his chin into his palm as he observed the mess Jughead was making. “Why was that a question?”

“Because I don't know that I'm actually making cookies.”

Sweet Pea raised his eyebrows and glanced down to the bowl as if to say _explain_.

Jughead held the salt shaker up, empty as it was, and shook it with a grumble. “The lid fell off. Don't think we have enough ingredients to start over. These cookies might be better suited for a horse.”

“Just scoop it out.” Sweet Pea shrugged, coming around the counter to grab a spoon from the drawer. He shuffled in next to him, elbowing him to scoot over, and dunked the spoon in the bowl to scrape the surface of the batter. “There, now add the flour. It should be… fine.”

He dropped the dollop in the trash and threw the spoon in the sink, settling back onto his elbows against the counter.

“Worth a try I guess,” Jughead sighed, grabbing a measuring cup to fill it with a heaping pile of flour before dumping it in the bowl and then adding another. He stirred the batter until it turned thick and started to form together.

 _Seemed_ like cookie dough.

“Grab the cookie sheet for me?” He glanced over to Sweet Pea who was scrolling through his phone.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” he set his phone on the counter and took one step forward before bringing a hand up to scratch through his hair. “Wait. We have a cookie sheet?”

“I mean… I think so. Hopefully.” He bent down to open the lower cabinets as Sweet Pea looked through the upper ones.

They both came up empty handed.

“What if we use this? Next best thing, I'd guess.”

Wrinkling his nose, he took the round pizza pan from Sweet Pea and set it on top of the stove. “Last resort, yeah. Betty's gonna laugh at us.”

Sweet Pea came to stand beside him, rolling up the sleeves of his Henley before he took a spoon to start scooping the cookie dough out onto the pan. “Blondie doesn't have to know a thing. We just clean up after ourselves and she won't notice.”

Jughead rolled his eyes, but worked alongside him in their now combined efforts.

“Speaking of Betty, though…”

Looking over, he watched Sweet Pea's brow furrow, which caused his own to wrinkle. “What's up?”

“I don't know what to get her for Christmas. I wasn't sure what you were planning, and I don't know everything that she already has back at her house.”

“Oh.” Jughead blinked. He felt Sweet Pea's pain though, because he had a hard enough time as well. With money constraints, of course he couldn't give her the world like she deserved, but he did manage to get her something she would hopefully like. Betty was easy to buy for, but she always appreciated gifts that had deeper meaning and thought.

“Didn't you already ask me once before?”

“Yeah, I did. I didn't like any of the things you said before, though. The only one that really helped was the tip about her getting into bullet journaling.”

“Well, you could always _make_ her something,” he offered with a shrug. “She loves homemade things. Meaningful stuff.”

Sweet Pea was quiet for a moment while they finished dotting the pan with the cookie dough until it was full. “I have been trying to work on a journal, kinda like those fancy ones you see in _Harry Potter_ or something…” He trailed off, placing the pan of cookies in the oven to bake, flicking the oven light on so they could see inside.

“Yeah,” Jughead wiped his palms on the apron, hands still dusty with flour. “I definitely think she'd like that.”

“Okay. Cool. What about you?”

“Sweet Pea,” he groaned, shoving at his shoulder and marking him with a smeared handprint. “Way to wait ‘til last minute for everything.”

He held his hands up in defense, dodging any more blows as he backed away to the living room to flop down on the couch. “It's all about the Christmas rush!”

Folding himself into the corner of the couch, Jughead knocked Sweet Pea's feet away to slouch comfortably as they turned the TV on to a random Christmas movie.

Of course, they accidentally forgot to set a timer for the cookies and subsequently burned the first round, only noticing when the smell became overwhelming.

After that, they stayed in the kitchen, watching the oven like hawks.

The second round was perfectly golden, and once cooled enough, they each tried a cookie. When they looked at each other, their faces wore matching grimaces.

“ _Dude_ …”

“Don't ‘dude’ me, it's not my fault.”

“Well it's not _mine._ ” Sweet Pea snorted, swallowing the rest of his cookie dryly. “You started this, I just tried to help finish it.”

Jughead pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed his half-eaten cookie back onto the plate. “It's the thought that counts, right?”

A hand clapped his shoulder, patting him sympathetically. “Sure, buddy.”

He elbowed Sweet Pea in the ribs. “Fuck off. I'll return your present if you don't be nice.”

“I just won't get you one, then. Tit for tat.”

“ _Shut up._ ”

They stared at the plate of cookies displayed on the one decorative ceramic plate they had, Santa's smile peeking through as Jughead contemplated just throwing them all away.

Sweet Pea sighed dramatically, fingers tapping against the counter until, suddenly, he smacked his hand flat against it and stood up straight. “Maybe icing would make them better?”

That started them on a dangerous path back into the depths of the cookbook, only to find a suitable recipe that was attached to a sugar cookie card.

(“How hard could buttercream be? It’s just _butter._ ”)

However, this time they managed to follow all of the instructions exactly as they were printed. Though, the icing somehow managed to come out tasting like _orange,_  despite Sweet Pea swearing that he didn't add anything extra.

Some amount of bickering later, after they washed and dried the dishes together until the kitchen was clean and the cookies were left on the counter.

“Any idea when Betty is coming back from her mom’s?”

Jughead shook his head, eyebrows knitting together as he thought of how empty their apartment always seemed without her. “Not a clue. I know she's helping her get ready for their annual Christmas Eve dinner.”

Not that it was as large as the first time he attended, though that seemed like a whole lifetime ago. So much had changed since the first Christmas they were together — in themselves and the town of Riverdale itself. For a moment, he wondered how things would have turned out had he and Betty not gotten together after all.

 _Would_ she be with Archie?

His attention was drawn upwards by Sweet Pea’s hum as he munched crudely on a cookie — overloaded with icing to offset the flavor.His lips moved in the shape of words lost on Jughead’s ears.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said — Alice is even more of a bitch during the holidays, if what Betty says is anything to go by. I'm kinda glad I'm not on that guestlist.”

“You know, you're really pushing your luck here. I might just have her take you instead,” he teased with a pointed look, tone turning serious. “I honestly doubt that anyone in attendance would even notice that it wasn't me. All they see is the Serpent jacket anyway.” He tugged the beanie off his head and threw it over to him. “Just pretend to be me.”

Sweet Pea caught it, grabbing the worn knit hat between his hands, staring down at it incredulously. He snorted, turning it over multiple times before pulling it on over his head, tugging it down to fit. “Like I could ever be as sardonic as the master.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” Jughead's eyebrows raised, fingers passing through his hair absently.

“Both? Probably both.” He shrugged, standing as a strange look passed over him. “I think Betty would feel more comfortable with you though, obviously. It's her family, even if they do suck.”

“Sweets,” Jughead started, adopting Betty's affectionate nickname, “You're one of her best friends. Hell, at this point you definitely see her more than Veronica and ten times more than Kevin. I think she would feel plenty comfortable.”

“Well — she can do, you know, whatever she wants. I don't care.” Sweet Pea waved a hand dismissively before pulling the beanie off his head and handing it back. “That shit messes up my hair, dunno how you stand it,” he mumbled, scratching at his nose and then turning on his heel. “I've got presents to make. Come get me when Betty's back. Wanna see her face when she tries those cookies.”

Watching him retreat to his room at the end of the hall, Jughead only responded with grunt while pulling the hat back on and twisting away a curl that was getting a bit too long.

Speaking of presents — his attention turned to look at their dainty tree atop the kitchen table, barren underneath.

After sending a quick text to Betty, he pulled the apron from his neck and rolled it into a ball to be tossed into his hamper. On the way to his room, he tucked a bottle of water under his arm, bit into a honeycrisp apple (from the bag that she had insisted upon the last time he reluctantly went grocery shopping — they would be eating takeout or Pop-Tarts for every meal if it weren't for her) and picked up his laptop from the coffee table.

Once inside, with a quick flip of the lock to his door, he set everything down on the bed. Gathering the few presents he had for his friends, he piled them on the rickety folding table that was used more as a catch-all than anything else.

Sitting back on the bed, he picked up the apple to take another bite, almost choking when he realized with a start that they definitely didn't have any wrapping paper.

Their first Christmas in this apartment was going swimmingly.

He laid back, chewing idly until he reached the core. Staring at the popcorn ceiling only had the crease between his brows growing as he stewed in his thoughts. He needed something to wrap the gifts with, as he would never hear the end of it if they were delivered to their recipients _naked_.

Rolling to his side, he tossed the remains of the apple into the trash can beside the bed, eyes settling on an old stack of newspapers tucked into the corner of the room. Ones that he had planned to eventually comb through for his Narrative Journalism class in the spring.

Kneeling in front of them, Jughead pulled on one end of the twine that bound the first stack. Rubbing the frayed end between his fingers, he mulled over his limited options before untying the knot. He did the same to the next few sets, gathering the material in hand and setting it next to the pile of presents along with a couple of the newspapers.

Cracking his knuckles, he heard Sweet Pea’s usual groan of disgust ringing inside his head as if he were in the room, and grinned. He had work to do.

   
. . . . .

. . . .

. . .

. .

.

It was only a couple hours later when Betty arrived home, arms full and thoroughly occupied, and she had about kicked the door in trying to knock with the toe of her boot loud enough for someone to hear her.

Thankfully, Jughead emerged from his room to place the presents under the tree at just the right time to hear her frustrated sigh from the other side of the door as she cursed. Of course, he stood there for a couple more seconds, artfully arranging his works of black and white newsprint under the little tree as he admired the force with which the door shook under her aggression.

Finally, he slid the lock to the side and opened the door only to have her practically fall into the apartment with a huff.

“About time, Jug!”

She offloaded the prizes in her arms to him, his eyes roamed the silver sparkly wrapped packages that when combined, seemed larger than her. He set them on the table beside the tree, apprehension building in his gut about what may be inside.

He was never good with receiving presents.

“Sorry,” he tugged her close by her shoulders, dropping a kiss to her temple then her red nose — frosty under the warmth of his lips. “I was wrapping presents.”

Her attention turned to his neat wrapping job, fingers running along the print words that scrolled across the packages. Her eyebrow rose, eyeing him from under her lashes as she grinned. “You think of this all by yourself, my little homemaker?” Betty wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his in a kiss that tasted like cherry Chapstick as she shuffled closer, the cold from her clothes seeping into his front.

Grunting into her mouth, he looped his arms about her waist despite the chill. “Just you wait…” he murmured against her lips, though internally grimaced as he glanced at the plate of cookies just over her shoulder. Her fingers sinking into his hair and tugging on the ends of his hat stole his attention, eyes finding her own as her eyebrow rose curiously.

“Oh yeah?” She asked, rubbing her nose along the length of his as she kicked out of her boots and dropped a couple of inches.

Following her down, Jughead buried his head in her neck, inhaling the scent that always clung to her with a sigh. His arms tightened around her waist, lifting her in a squeeze that had her smiling into his cheek. Pulling back, he cupped her jaw in his hand and brought their mouths together, more insistently this time.

Then, a cough sounded behind them.

“Ahem, this is a family space.”

He let her go, eyes rolling, as he turned to watch Sweet Pea perch on the arm of the couch, his own package in hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Betty pointed at him then jutted her thumb over her shoulder. “Go get the box I had to leave in my mom’s car.”

“Wow — no please or thank you?” Sweet Pea brought a hand to his chest, feigning indignation.

“ _Please_ ,” she amended, unwinding from Jughead, with a flutter of her eyelashes, tone dripping in saccharine, “go get the box I left in my mom’s car.”

“It's like you don't even _want_ anything for Christmas, huh?”

“Sweets,” she whined, slinking around the kitchen counter to stand in front of him. Her hands fisted in his shirt, legs on either side of his as she peered at the singular box in his hands wrapped plainly in brown paper.

She threw on her best pout and Jughead rolled his eyes. There was little anyone could do to resist that face, eyes shining, wide and grassy green.

“Goddammit.”

A grin of satisfaction spread across her face before she was plucking the present from his hand and then turning it over in her own. “Is this one mine?”

“Yeah but—” he reached out for it but she stepped back out of his reach and his hands grabbed at air. “Don't go shaking it or nothing,” he huffed.

“Oh, is that gonna give it away?” She asked with an arched brow, but stilled her hands complacently.

“ _Maybe_ it's just fragile?” he countered passively, shrugging his shoulders as he crossed his arms.

“Oh.” Betty looked at the box, cradling it between her arms for a moment before setting it underneath the tree next to the other presents. “Well, I'll leave it alone then. But I was wondering… if we could all — maybe — exchange our presents today?”

Well, Jughead couldn't be more glad he had wrapped them not even an hour ago then. Betty gave him too much credit for being on time with projects. Even though tomorrow _was_ Christmas Eve.

She looked between him and Sweet Pea, chewing her lip between her teeth before sucking in a breath. “I just — with my mom’s party tomorrow, and then she wants me there all day on Christmas morning because Polly is coming home with the twins.” She turned to him and scrunched her face up, “and I don't particularly care for her to watch us do our exchange, so—”

“Betty, that's fine.” Jughead reached out to pull her in to his chest, arms curling around her shoulders as she nuzzled against him. Her shaky breath on his neck reminded him of just how much anxiety always seemed to accompany the subject of Alice Cooper and it twisted his heart painfully.

“Really? I’m not rushing you guys?” She asked quietly, tilting her head up to look at him before glancing around her shoulder to look at Sweet Pea.

He shook his head, knee bouncing a little. “Never, little miss Betty-the-elf. I’m just lucky I finished before you got here.”

She brightened at that, smile lighting up across her face as she pulled away from Jughead to clasp her hands together. “Yeah? I just don’t want to wait until after Christmas to give you guys your gifts.”

“No problem-o. Now, that box in the trunk?” Sweet Pea asked, beginning to step around them.

“Yes, it’s got a special treat inside, so be careful!” She called as he stepped into his boots, not bothering to tie up the laces or throw on a coat.

Once the door shut, Betty looked up at Jughead with a critical eye. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

He nodded once, leaning forward to place a kiss to the crown of her head. “Of course. I don’t want Sweet Pea to feel left out.”

“Okay,” she sighed in relief, squeezing her arms tightly around his middle. “Are you guys going to your dad’s on Christmas Day?”

“Until I leave to go to yours, yeah. I’ll leave him with my dad and hope they don’t drink themselves to death with some kind of pissing contest.”

She let go, bringing her hands up to twist in the fabric of his sweater and pull him down for a kiss.

Their lips met, the quiet in the air filled only by the shared breath between them. She was smooth to his rough, he cupped her jaw to angle her further. Breathing in the scent of vanilla on her breath, he drank her in slowly.

“Juggie…” her murmur against his lips had him smiling into her mouth. “Don't tell me you're my _present_.”

He leaned his forehead down against hers, his hand sneaking under the flap of her coat to curl over her hip. Grabbing at the deceptively sinful white lace dress she was wearing, he tugged her even closer.

“I think you've got it backwards… look, there's even a bow to untie.” His hand ran up the curve of her waist, slipping underneath the ivory ribbon that wrapped around her back.

She rolled her eyes, flattening her hands against his chest and smoothing them toward his shoulders. Her teeth caught his lower lip, tugging gently and drawing him back toward her mouth.

The doorknob turned — “Oh, come on. I was only gone five minutes, guys.”

Betty giggled, pecking his lips and then wiggling out of his grasp to shed her coat and kick her boots out of the way.

“Here, put the box down on the counter.”

He turned to watch Sweet Pea do exactly that before stepping up beside him to peer inside and pick up the small present on top.

“For your dad.” She smiled softly, taking it from him to place under the tree in the back.

The twisting in his gut resurfaced promptly, he still wasn’t used to Betty's generosity and kindness for everyone, particularly his family. There was a part of him that would never deserve her.

“Is this a _cake_?”

Jughead looked back towards Sweet Pea as he lifted the covered dish out and then set the box on the stove. The clear lid displayed the intricate detailing of dark chocolate frosting — it looked like tree bark.

“It's a yule log.” She pushed between the both of them to stand in the middle, fingernails tapping lightly along the glass in admiration. A quiet sigh escaped, one that sagged her shoulders. “It's a Christmas tradition, but we haven't made it for a couple of years.”

It looked _perfect_ , like everything else Betty Cooper did. He couldn’t help but be impressed, as per usual. But he knew that sigh and it hurt him, too.

“So… it's a cake.” Sweet Pea’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, squinting down at her.

She bounced back quickly, brushing off the undercurrent of her dysfunctional family and poked Sweet Pea in the side with a jab of her finger. “It's a _yule log._ ”

“Yeah, it's a cake,” Jughead rolled his eyes, grabbing her hand before it made its way to grab a pinch of his own side. “A very _fancy_ cake.”

She grumbled, folding her arms over her chest in defeat. “Fine. A cake.”

“Speaking of desserts…” Sweet Pea picked up the lone Santa plate, covered with the cookies, stacked messily with overflowing frosting. “Jug made you something really special here, Betts.”

“Yeah, Sweets helped me though. Couldn't have done it without him,” he chirped, avoiding Betty's gaze as it flickered between them before settling on the plate, narrowly missing him flip Sweet Pea off.

She unfolded an arm, picking up one of the cookies. A glop of icing slid off the edge at the same time a quiet, “Oops,” left her lips. “These sure have… a lot of icing.”

Sweet Pea swiped his finger along the counter, collecting the drop and popping it in his mouth with a grin. “I love icing.” She missed the way his face twisted at the overly sweet confectioners’ sugar as he leaned his elbow on the corner.

“It's so sweet that you guys baked for me. You really didn't have to.”

Her affectionate smile almost completely dissolved after biting into the cookie.

Jughead could hear the crunch, for one, and then, to add insult to injury, she had to yank pretty hard to finish separating the cookie. There was icing all over her upper lip that her tongue darted out for, her other hand raised to cover her mouth as she chewed. And chewed.

“These are great!”

He shared a look with Sweet Pea over the top of her head that surely conveyed both of their feelings.

“Really?”

“Yeah, they're super… um, they're really good,” she took another, smaller bite. “And you know what else is good? _Presents_. Don't you guys want to open them? We can have dinner and the yule log later,” Betty set the cookie back on the plate and brushed her hands together. “Let's exchange our gifts right now!”

She took hold of their arms, pushing and pulling them to move into the living room with little complaint on their end.

They knew what the cookies tasted like, after all. But it was exceptionally cute that she tried so hard to like them, even if she changed the subject.

Stuffing himself into the corner of the couch, Jughead threw his elbow up along the back and found the remote hidden in the seat to throw on something Christmas-y. Spirit was important for the mood.

Sweet Pea settled beside him, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and crossing his arms over his chest. “Come on, Mrs. Claus. Divvy out the packages.”

Betty twirled around, dipping into a curtsy. “Why of course, Mr. Claus.” She turned then, making her way around the counter to reach into the box and pull out a Santa hat. She turned it over in her hands before pulling it onto her head, hands going to her hips and then looking back to Sweet Pea. “Now you just need a hat.”

“Hope you got me one, then.”

She brought a finger to her lips, a hum resonating softly. “Well, time to find out.”

Jughead accepted the two packages she handed him with a quick upturn of his lips, tilting into the soft press of her lips to his cheek. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered a “Merry Christmas, Juggie.”

Then, Betty collected the small gifts he had wrapped, Sweet Pea's name scrawled over the newspaper, as well as the box she had brought, and handed them away before collecting her own. She sat on the coffee table, facing them as she balanced the parcels addressed to her across her lap.

He looked down at the sparkly silver paper before turning toward his quote-unquote best friend with a raised eyebrow.  

“Yours was too big to wrap.” Sweet Pea winked, a wolfish grin showing off the dimple in his cheek, raising more questions than he had answered.

“Shove off,” Jughead grunted, but he felt that twisting in his gut begin to rumble again at the thought of Sweet Pea spending too much or going out of his way for _him_. He was (almost-but-still-not-quite) used to it from Betty, knowing she went above and beyond with most everything.

“You go first, Juggie.”

The look they shared had him thoroughly intrigued at _why_ , but he untied the ribbon and tore into the wrapping paper that covered the first box in his lap anyway. It revealed a plain box underneath, unmarked, with a thick layer of tape to keep it closed. Looking up, he found that Betty was already holding out his pocket knife.

Cutting into the box, he flipped open the flaps and was met with a matte black. He pulled the object out and let the box fall away, rubbing his thumb over the curve of the plastic. “A new motorcycle helmet?”

“Yep,” she popped her ‘p’ in a way that had him chuckling. “So now I can have your old one.”

“Oh, how convenient,” he drawled, teasing. Though he was infinitely thankful because he didn't like when she rode along with him wearing her old one — another hand-me-down from his father that was too worn and cracked to feel safe, it always made him uneasy. “Thank you though, you really did need a new helmet.”

“It's for you,” she huffed, crossing her legs, drawing his attention to the iridescent stockings that were covering her thighs.

His brow raised, eyes wandering to where the thin fabric disappeared under her dress. When he glanced back to her face, she was giving him a pointed look but he just shrugged. Distraction couldn’t be helped when Betty’s legs were involved.“Okay fine, it's for me. Thank you,” he said before returning the helmet back to the box and setting it on the floor.

When he picked up the second package it was heavy and distinctly tin-shaped. He brought it up to his nose and smelled through the wrapping paper. “Coffee?” he asked, as the aroma alone filled him with a slight pick-me-up.

Betty nodded, fingers wiggling at him as her eyes lit up mischievously. “Not just any coffee…”

He tore the paper from the tin, revealing plain silver underneath, but the was a Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe label stuck on the lid, with Pop's initials in the bottom right corner.

“Really?” He questioned, still not sure whether to believe it or not. Pop had always insisted that his coffee blend was a secret, but here he was with a whole tin in his lap.

“Yes, _really_. I know it won't be exactly like when you're there but… close enough?”

“Heaven in a jar,” he sighed wistfully, patting the lid. “How did you even convince him to sell this to you?”

“Listen,” she started coyly, a sweet smile spreading across her lips. “I can do anything, right?”

He shook his head at that, eyes rolling upward — but fact of the matter was — she was right. There wasn't much she couldn't accomplish when she set her mind to it.

“Yo, you gonna share that?” Sweet Pea asked, leaning over to peek at his prize.

Jughead shooed him away, tucking the can into his opposite side. “No way, you ruin coffee by adding a ton of cream and sugar.”

Sinking back into the couch, Sweet Pea pouted, “It tastes better that way…”

He must have pulled a face because Betty was waving her hand through the air.

“Okay, enough, boys. Let's keep the spirit of Christmas cheer and joy around, okay? You go next,” she nodded to Sweet Pea.

He brightened up at that, sitting upright and then moving the larger package away to begin on the smaller ones. Lifting up the first one, large but flat, he tore the newspaper after untying the twine bow. He stared at the contents of the gift box before his eyes snapped over to Jughead with parted lips. He shook his head and lifted out one of the patches, fingers holding the delicate embroidery as if afraid it would fall apart. “Why?” was the only word that came out of his mouth, quiet.

Jughead looked to the patch, the same two-headed serpent that adorned his and his father’s jackets — the symbol that set him apart from the rest of the Serpents, easily identifiable as a leader. “Simple. You deserve it.”

Sweet Pea stayed quiet for a moment, eyes searching his own before he cleared his throat. “I’m thankful you think that.”

“I _know_ that.”

Betty clasped her hands together in front of her, tilting her head. “I'll sew them on for you, Sweets, if you want.”

He nodded his head, still quiet. “Yeah — thanks,” then turned to Jughead. “Thank you.” His eyes reflected a belonging, a sense of home, and _pride_.

It made Jughead’s heart jump in his chest. It felt good to evoke those feelings in someone. “You're welcome and — there's a couple of other… small things.” He added, gesturing to the other items and bringing the attention away from the moment. He could breathe again when Sweet Pea picked up the next package.

He opened a new silver chain for his dog tags, one that would hold up better over time. And then the last package…

“ _The Outsiders_?” Sweet Pea brushed a thumb across the lettering on the Blu-ray case, picking at the plastic.

“Yeah. You remember that day we first met? I told you about it—”

“And then we watched it not long after. A sheet on the wall in my gram's trailer — the projector you _stole_ —”

“I did not _steal_ it,” Jughead huffed, “It's not like they were going to be using it anymore.”

Sweet Pea made a face, leaning back into the couch and piling his things together with a lingering look at them. Then he set the last gift onto his lap, pulling the red sparkling bow off and setting it to the side before looking up at Betty, who had dipped to rest her chin in her palm. A small smile was building on her face, her eyes lighting up again.

He tore the paper off and opened the box to pull out what was inside. There was a shimmery, transparent fabric dotted with golden stars that wrapped neatly around a shallow brown basket. Tossing the box away, he pulled at the string to get to the items.

It was filled with an assortment of things, Jughead noticed, leaning over to glance at them curiously.

A box of white mocha hot chocolate, chocolate covered pretzels, Twizzlers, a Foo Fighters graphic shirt, new earphones, a bottle of body wash, and a bottle of Fred's homebrewed beer.

“Okay not only is this basically all my favorite shit, but—” Sweet Pea held up the beer, bringing the cap up under his nose, as if he could smell it through the glass and metal. “How are you getting these things, Mary Poppins?”

Jughead was just as bewildered, as Fred so rarely let his son and his underage friends drink under the Andrew’s own roof. But the times that he did, they had all enjoyed his home brew — Sweet Pea more than anyone else.

“Like I said, I have my ways. The rest of the six pack is in the backseat of the car,” she beamed, fingers tapping along her upper lip before she sat up rigidly and gestured to the body wash. “And I was going to grab Irish Spring because I know that's your brand, but they were all out both times I went shopping so I got this bergamot and white tea one. I hope it's alright?”

He exchanged the beer for the white bottle and popped the cap open to take a whiff. His mouth turned down as his eyebrows raised, he looked shocked for a moment.  “That smells really fucking good.”

Betty shoulders sagged in relief and she smiled fondly, “Excellent.”

“I can't believe you knew what to get me.”

She turned to Jughead, nudging his knee with her ankle. “Well, I had _some_ help. But I am ever observant, as well.”

“I can't fucking believe you two. Really going the extra mile here,” Sweet Pea laughed and shuffled the items around in the basket until he fished out the package of Twizzlers, tearing it open. “Thanks, B.”

“You're going to ruin your dinner, _SP_.”

“Says the woman who just ate the most delicious cookie of her life—”

“Okay,” Jughead interjected, putting a hand up between them before Betty could sputter out a response. “Open your gifts before I get an aneurysm.”

“I resent that,” Sweet Pea bit into a Twizzler with a grin, offering out the other half for him.

“Good.” He took the licorice despite the look Betty was giving him.

She rolled her eyes, “Babies,” fell from her lips in a quiet sigh, but she picked up the first present in her lap. It was the only one not wrapped in newspaper.

“ _Baby_ , babies can't eat Twizzlers.”

“Well, _babe,_  they can't drink beer either. Maybe I should just pop back over to Fred's and return it—”

Sweet Pea leaned forward, grabbing her knee and whining, “I'm just playin’, don't take it back.”

Rolling his eyes, Jughead settled back into the corner of the couch and nudged Betty's ankle with his foot. He looked down at her lap pointedly, “Presents.”

“Right. Okay.” She flicked Sweet Pea's hand on her knee. “Off.”

He scrunched his nose up, otherwise unflinching and muttered a quiet, “Bossy,” but removed his hand all the same.

Betty rapped her nails along the package before sticking her tongue out at him. Turning the present over in her hands to admire the neat corners, she slid her finger under the edge of the folded side and carefully pulled the paper away.

“Oh geez, you're one of those?”

Jughead coughed under his breath, hiding his laughter behind his fist as she glowered at Sweet Pea.

“I just have an appreciation for the time and effort it took,” she said daintily, finger running under the seam of the paper to seperate the sides, tucking the tape underneath itself.

With the wrapping paper removed, she looked down at the box in her lap curiously before peeling back the tape that ran down the center to keep it closed. Then she reached in and pulled out a leather bound book.

Jughead couldn't help but smile at the way her eyes lit up gave a curt little chin nod to Sweet Pea, their fists bumping together in shared pride.

“Sweet Pea, this — did you _make_ this?” Grasped between her hands was a leather book, so blue it was almost black — she was enraptured.

“I mean — yeah, but it was no big deal.”

Turning it over in her hands, Betty held the spine and thumbed the pages rapidly. It was hearty and would last her quite a long while, considering her writing had slowed somewhat from their teen spirit days.

The thread that ran down the spine, binding the book together, was a lighter blue, wavering on purple.

“A couple hours in and I finally learned how to work the needle and thread without stabbing myself. Longstitch is a bitch.”

“ _Hours_?”

Jughead's eyebrows rose, imagining Sweet Pea using a needle and thread in the first place then tried not to laugh at the thought. “Really?”

He shrugged, looking the slightest bit bashful as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I've been working on some version of it for a while, not just today. I just didn't know if you would like it or not until Jug said you would.”

“I _love_ it, Sweets. And you even got me a fountain pen and ink? This is _so_ great. I've always wanted one.”

She held up the pen for Jughead to see, black, silver, and shiny in the light. Licking the tip, she held it poised in her hand, picture perfect with the cover open to the first page of the book. Looking to Sweet Pea, she tilted her head. “How do I look?”

“Hmm,” he dragged out, narrowing his eyes and sweeping them from her head to her toes. “I suppose like a poster child for healthy habits.”

“Well, I'll take that as a compliment if I must,” she tucked the pen into the crease and closed the book, setting it on the table next to her last gift. Then she stood and leaned forward to hook her arms around Sweet Pea's neck, pressing several kisses to his cheek. “I love it, thank you. It's almost too pretty to write in.”

He made a face at her kiss, leaning away as she pressed their cheeks together and squeezed him tightly around the neck. “Alright, geez — didn't think you’d get so mushy.”

As she sat back down on the coffee table, Jughead watched Sweet Pea rub at his cheek with the back of his hand, grumbling something about lip gloss under his breath. Tapping his own cheek, he jutted his chin to indicate that he should rub a little higher where the gloss was still shiny. He smirked when Sweet Pea flipped him off, the pink of his cheeks was barely noticeable, but there.

“Oh, Juggie…”

Realizing he'd been staring at his friend, Jughead turned back to Betty to find that she had opened the first of his packages.

He felt his stomach drop, that nervous hook pulling him upright as she lifted the burgundy leather from the box.

“I know you didn't _need_ a new jacket, but I thought this one suited you,” he offered. “And there’s a patch, uh, it’s…”

She lifted the jacket, turning it over to reveal the same two-headed serpent embroidery on the back. Her fingernails caught over the threads, scratching lightly against the curve of the snake. “I don't know why you think _I'm_ deserving of this,” she said quietly.

Leaning forward, Jughead grabbed her wrist and turned her hand over, laying her palm under his. “You are every bit my other half. No important decision is made without consulting you first,” he rubbed the inside of her wrist with his thumb. “Plus, I want everyone to know not to fuck with you.”

“Possessive much,” Sweet Pea commented dryly, though his smile gave him away.

The corner of Betty's mouth lifted as she shook her head at him. “An unnecessary gesture of male dominance,” she chastised with a amused smile, “but… I suppose I don't mind it. And the color is beautiful.”

“Yeah? I didn't think you would appreciate a bright pink jacket, despite what Cheryl might have told me.”

She rolled her eyes, folding the sleeves back and the jacket in half before setting it on the coffee table. “Well, you were correct not to listen to her. I'll try it on a little later, because there is something _else_ I need to show you…” she said with a wink, voice dropping off as she purposefully crossed her legs over one another.

“Yeah, I'm still right here.”

Jughead ignored Sweet Pea, raising his eyebrows at the way she was biting her lip. Admittedly, he found the Santa hat on her head all too endearing, juxtaposed with the sultry look she was fixing him. Dare he say, a combination of naughty and nice that he would be willing to explore in the confines of his room later.

“Sorry,” she wrinkled her nose before picking up the last package, carefully unwrapping the last of the newspaper. Inside the small box was a silver key, she it held up between her fingers with a question in her eyes.

There were a thousand things he would like to say and do, but the only thing that rushed up and out of his throat was, “I thought it was time you had a spare.”

“Oh, of course. That way I can come over here when you're both gone and enjoy the silence for once,” she grinned at him, “Perfect. Thank you, Juggie. For both of my gifts.”

“Merry Christmas, Betts.”

“Merry Christmas!” she replied happily, resting her elbows on her knees as she clasped her hands together. “Now, Sweets…” she prompted, her eyes flickering between them.

“Right, yeah —” Sweet Pea straightened up, uncrossing his arms to pull his phone from the pocket of his pants. He looked up through the hair falling into his eyes then swooped it back with his other hand, squinting at the screen.

“So, I don't have it _here_ exactly. Gotta ride out to Fred's and pick it up in his truck, but, uh…” He held out his phone, “I built you a desk. Something better than that rickety fold-out you’ve got.”

Taking the phone, Jughead’s eyebrows knit together. “Wow,” he brought it closer to his face, peering down at the picture. It was a fairly simple desk, with a set of shelves on one side, stained a dark maple. But it was real, and tangible, and so very close. “How long did this take you? Fred helped?”

“Well, he helped in the sense that he offered me a place to work on it in his garage — of course that was after Betty _subtly_ suggested that I didn't have the means to do it in the first place.”

She smiled sweetly with a shrug of her shoulders.

“But it took… uh — I've been working on it since right after Thanksgiving.”

Shaking his head, Jughead looked up from the phone. “This is… fucking awesome. I can't believe you would do that. _‘What do you want for Christmas?_ ’ my ass,” he snorted, tossing Sweet Pea his phone then shoving his palm into his shoulder with jest, knocking him to the side.

It was one thing to put a lot of money into a gift, it was another to put thought into one and _create_. It shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, but he was impressed. It always felt like a sucker punch when anyone showed any amount of what he considered unwarranted affection. But he would swallow it down this time and accept, for it was gift he couldn't very well refuse.

His fingers against Sweet Pea's shoulder tightened into a squeeze, tugging him in across the short distance for a hug.

A hand fisted in the shirt at his side for a moment, as Sweet Pea let out a huff of air against his shoulder before relaxing into him.

Jughead’s hand drifted up from his shoulder, smoothing his palm down the back of his head in comfort.

“I always have to give you hell, Jones. My number one job in life.” Sweet Pea’s fingers gripped harder at Jughead before his hand spread flat and he clapped his side a couple times, squeezing his arm tightly around his middle before they pulled away from each other.

He couldn't help but notice Sweet Pea's cheeks were pink once again and he smirked. Hand still on his arm, he stopped him from leaning back and patted his cheek with one hand. “Wait — wait, am I supposed to kiss your cheek too?” he asked teasingly, enjoying the way Sweet Pea floundered in response, shoving at his own shoulders to push his slow lean in away.

“Like I need to contract _both_ of your germs. No thanks.”

“Enough, boys,” Betty trilled. “Let's just be thankful for our gifts and for each other this Christmas, that we're happy and healthy.”

There would always be plenty to be thankful for, he mused. Things could always be worse, but they hadn't been for a while and he hoped those days never returned — for any of them.

  


****

  


Later that night, when their bellies were full of blasphemous Hawaiian pizza and chocolate cake with (real) fluffy buttercream icing, Jughead cleared his throat after sipping on the sparkling juice they'd been saving for the occasion.

“So, Betty…”

She looked up at him from her perch against his chest, sitting up a bit.

“About your mom's Christmas Eve party tomorrow… Sweet Pea said he would really like to go—”

“ _What_ — I never—”

“Really?” she asked, looking up at him, bright eyed, as she clutched the journal that had been resting in her lap to her chest.

“I didn’t—”

“I'm so glad! It's really not actually _that_ bad, if you just avoid my mom the whole time, which I would recommend. Oh, and probably grandpa Smith, he's not the most tolerant person in the world—”

Sweet Pea turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, fingers finding his shoulder to flick him with a solid _whap_.

Bringing a hand up, Jughead rubbed the spot with a smirk, shrugging in response.

Maybe they could all just go together, the three of them against the world. His girlfriend and his best friend. That didn't sound too bad, he mused. Sinking back into the couch, he wrapped an arm around Betty as she curled up between them, giving Sweet Pea the low-down on all her family members.

Each Christmas was getting better than the last, and for once in his life he was looking forward to next year and what it would bring.

  
  


_fin_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come say hiiiiii!


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